The Collected Westerns of William MacLeod Raine: 21 Novels in One Volume

by Unknown

  "We didn't come here to listen to a speech, cap, but to notify you we was dissatisfied, and wouldn't have you run the outfit any longer," explained Neil.

  "In that event, having heard the report of the committee, if there's no further new business, I declare this meeting adjourned sine die. Kindly remove the perfume tubs, Captain Neil, at your earliest convenience."

  The quartette retreated ignominiously. They had come prepared to gloat over Leroy's discomfiture, and he had mocked them with that insolent ease of his that set their teeth in helpless rage.

  But the deposed chief knew they had not struck their last blow. Throughout the night he could hear the low-voiced murmur of their plottings, and he knew that if the liquor held out long enough there would be sudden death at Hidden Valley before twenty-four hours were up. He looked carefully to his rifle and his revolvers, testing several shells to make sure they had not been tampered with in his absence. After he had made all necessary preparations, he drew the blinds of his window and moved his easy-chair from its customary place beside the fire. Also he was careful not to sit where an shadow would betray his position. Then back he went to his Villon, a revolver lying on the table within reach.

  But the night passed without mishap, and with morning he ventured forth to his meeting with the sheriff. He might have slipped out from the back door of his cabin and gained the canyon, by circling unobserved, up the draw and over the hogback, but he would not show by these precautions any fear of the cutthroats with whom he had to deal. As was his scrupulous custom, he shaved and took his morning bath before appearing outdoors. In all Arizona no trimmer, more graceful figure of jaunty recklessness could be seen than this one stepping lightly forth to knock at the bunk-house door behind which he suspected were at least two men determined on his death by treachery.

  Neil came to the door in answer to his knock and within he could see the villainous faces at bloodshot eyes of two of the others peering at him.

  "Good mo'ning, Captain Neil. I'm on my way to keep that appointment I mentioned last night I'd ce'tainly be glad to have you go along. Nothing like being on the spot to prevent double-crossing."

  "I'm with you in the fling of a cow's tail. Come on, boys."

  "I think not. You and I will go alone."

  "Just as you say. Reilly, I guess you better saddle Two-step and the Lazy B roan."

  "I ain't saddling ponies for Mr. Leroy," returned Reilly, with thick defiance.

  Neil was across the room in two strides. "When I tell you to do a thing, jump! Get a move on and saddle those broncs."

  "I don't know as--"

  "Vamos!"

  Reilly sullenly slouched out.

  "I see you made them jump," commented the former captain audibly, seating himself comfortably on a rock. "It's the only way you'll get along with them. See that they come to time or pump lead into them. You'll find there's no middle way."

  Neil and Leroy had hardly passed beyond the rock-slide before the others, suspicion awake in their sodden brains, dodged after them on foot. For three miles they followed the broncos as the latter picked their way up the steep trail that led to the Dalriada Mine.

  "If Mr. Collins is here, he's lying almighty low," exclaimed Neil, as he swung from his pony at the foot of the bluff from the brow of which the gray dump of the mine straggled down like a Titan's beard.

  "Right you are, Mr. Neil."

  York whirled, revolver in hand, but the man who had risen from behind the big boulder beside the trail was resting both hands on the rock before him.

  "You're alone, are you?" demanded York.

  "I am."

  Neil's revolver slid back into its holster. "Mornin', Val. What's new down at Tucson?" he said amiably.

  "I understood I was to meet you alone, Mr. Leroy," said the sheriff quickly, his blue-gray eyes on the former chief.

  "That was the agreement, Mr. Collins, but it seems the boys are on the anxious seat about these little socials of ours. They've embraced the notion that I'm selling them. I hated to have them harassed with doubts, so I invited the new majordomo of the ranch to come with me. Of cou'se, if you object--"

  "I don't object in the least, but I want him to understand the agreement. I've got a posse waiting at Eldorado Springs, and as soon as I get back there we take the trail after you. Bucky O'Connor is at the head of the posse."

  York grinned. "We'll be in Sonora then, Val. Think I'm going to wait and let you shoot off my other fingers?"

  Collins fished from his vest pocket the papers he had taken from Scott hat and from Webster. "I think I'll be jogging along back to the springs. I reckon these are what you want."

  Leroy took them from him and handed them to Neil. "Don't let us detain you any longer, Mr. Collins. I know you're awful busy these days."

  The sheriff nodded a good day, cut down the hill on the slant, and disappeared in a mesquit thicket, from the other side of which he presently emerged astride a bay horse.

  The two outlaws retraced their way to the foot of the hill and remounted their broncos.

  "I want to say, cap, that I'm eating humble-pie in big chunks right this minute," said Neil shamefacedly, scratching his curly poll and looking apologetically at his former chief. "I might 'a' knowed you was straight as a string, all I've seen of you these last two years. If those coyotes say another word, cap--"

  An exploding echo seemed to shake the mountain, and then another. Leroy swayed in the saddle, clutching at his side. He pitched forward, his arms round the horse's neck, and slid slowly to the ground.

  Neil was off his horse in an instant, kneeling beside him. He lifted him in his arms and carried him behind a great outcropping boulder.

  "It's that hound Collins," he muttered, as he propped the wounded man's head on his arm. "By God, I didn't think it of Val."

  Leroy opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "Guess again, York."

  "You don't mean "

  He nodded. "Right this time--Hardman and Chaves and Reilly. They shot to get us both. With us out of the way they could divide the treasure between them."

  Neil choked. "You ain't bad hurt, old man. Say you ain't bad hurt, Phil."

  "More than I can carry, York; shot through and through. I've been doubtful of Reilly for a long time;"

  "By the Lord, if I don't get the rattlesnake for this!" swore Neil between his teeth. "Ain't there nothin' I can do for you, old pardner?"

  In sharp succession four shots rang out. Neil grasped his rifle, leaning forward and crouching for cover. He turned a puzzled face toward Leroy. "I don't savvy. They ain't shooting at us."

  "The sheriff," explained Leroy. "They forgot him, and he doubled back on them."

  "I'll bet Val got one of them," cried Neil, his face lighting.

  "He's got one--or he's quit living. That's a sure thing. Why don't you circle up on them from behind, York?"

  "I hate to leave you, cap--and you so bad. Can't I do a thing for you?"

  Leroy smiled faintly. "Not a thing. I'll be right here when you get back, York."

  The curly-headed young puncher took Leroy's hand in his, gulping down a boyish sob. "I ain't been square with you, cap. I reckon after this-- when you git well--I'll not be such a coyote any more."

  The dying man's eyes were lit with a beautiful tenderness. "There's one thing you can do for me, York. . . . I'm out of the game, but I want you to make a new start. . . . I got you into this life, boy. Quit it, and live straight. There's nothing to it, York."

  The cowboy-bandit choked. "Don't you worry about me, cap. I'm all right. I'd just as lief quit this deviltry, anyhow."

  "I want you to promise, boy." A whimsical, half-cynical smile touched Leroy's eyes. "You see, after living like a devil for thirty years, I want to die like a Christian. Now, go, York."

  After Neil had left him, Leroy's eyes closed. Faintly he heard two more shots echoing down the valley, but the meaning of them was already lost to his wandering mind.

  Neil dodged rapidly round the foot of the mountain
with intent to cut off the bandits as they retreated. He found the sheriff crouching behind a rock scarce two hundred yards from the scene of the murder. At the same moment another shot echoed from well over to the left.

  "Who can that be?" Neil asked, very much puzzled.

  "That's what's worrying me, York," the sheriff returned.

  Together they zigzagged up the side of the mountain. Twice from above there came sounds of rifle shots. Neil was the first to strike the trail to the mine. None too soon for as he stepped upon it, breathing heavily from his climb, Reilly swung round a curve and whipped his weapon to his shoulder. The man fired before York could interfere and stood watching tensely the result of his shot. He was silhouetted against the skyline, a beautiful mark, but Neil did not cover him. Instead, he spoke quietly to the other.

  "Was it you that killed Phil, Reilly?"

  The man whirled and saw Neil for the first time. His answer was instant. Flinging up his rifle, he pumped a shot at York.

  Neil's retort came in a flash. Reilly clutched at his heart and toppled backward from the precipice upon which he stood. Collins joined the cowpuncher and together they stepped forward to the point from which Reilly had plunged down two hundred feet to the jagged rocks below.

  At the curve they came face to face with Bucky O'Connor. Three weapons went up quicker than the beating of an eyelash. More slowly each went down again

  "What are you doing here, Bucky?" the sheriff asked.

  "Just pirootin' around, Val. It occurred to me Leroy might not mean to play fair with you, so I kinder invited myself to the party. When I heard shooting I thought it was you they had bushwhacked, so I sat in to the game "

  "You guessed wrong, Bucky. Reilly and the others rounded on Leroy. While they were at it they figured to make a clean job and bump off York, too. From what York says Leroy has got his.

  The ranger turned a jade eye on the outlaw. Has Mr. Neil turned honest man, Val? Taken him into your posse, have you?" he asked, with an edge of irony in his voice.

  The sheriff laid a hand on the shoulder of the man who had been his friend before he turned miscreant.

  "Don't you worry about Neil, Bucky," he advised gently. "It was York shot Reilly, after York had cut loose at him, and I shouldn't wonder if that didn't save your life. Neil has got to stand the gaff for what he's done, but I'll pull wires to get his punishment made light."

  "Killed Reilly, did he?" repeated O'Connor. "I got Anderson back there."

  "That makes only one left to account for. I wonder who he is?" Collins turned absent-mindedly to Neil. The latter looked at him out of an expressionless face. Even though his confederate had proved traitor he would not betray him.

  "I wonder," he said.

  Bucky laughed. "Made a mistake that time, Val."

  "I plumb forgot the situation for a moment," the sheriff grinned. "Anyhow, we better be hittin' his trail."

  "How about Phil?" Neil suggested.

  "That's right. One of us has ce'tainly got to go back and attend to him."

  "You and Neil go back. I'll follow up this gentleman who is escaping," the ranger said.

  And so it was arranged. The two men returned from their grim work of justice to the place where the outlaw chief had been left. His eyes lit feebly at sight of them.

  "What news, York?" he asked.

  "Reilly and Hardman are killed. How are you feelin', cap?" The cow-puncher knelt beside the dying outlaw and put an arm under his head.

  "Shot all to pieces, boy. No, I got no time to have you play doctor with me." He turned to Collins with a gleam of his unconquerable spirit. "You came pretty near making a clean round-up, sheriff. I'm the fourth to be put out of business. You'd ought to be content with that. Let York here go."

  "I can't do that, but I'll do my best to see he gets off light."

  "I got him into this, sheriff. He was all right before he knew me. I want him to get a chance now. "

  "I wish I could give him a pardon, but I can't do it. I'll see the governor for him though."

  The wounded man spoke to Collins alone for a few minutes, then began to wander in his mind He babbled feebly of childhood days back in his Kentucky home. The word most often on his lips was "Mother." So, with his head resting on Neil's arm and his hand in that of his friend, he slipped away to the Great Beyond.

  CHAPTER 22.

  FOR A GOOD REASON

  The young ladies, following the custom of Arizona in summer, were riding by the light of the stars to avoid the heat of the day. They rode leisurely, chatting as their ponies paced side by side. For though they were cousins they were getting acquainted with each other for the first time. Both of them found this a delightful process, not the less so because they were temperamentally very different. Each of them knew already that they were going to be great friends. They had exchanged the histories of their lives, lying awake girl fashion to talk into the small hours, each omitting certain passages, however, that had to do with two men who were at that moment approaching nearer every minute to them.

  Bucky O'Connor and Sheriff Collins were returning to the Rocking Chair Ranch from Epitaph, where they had just been to deposit twenty-seven thousand dollars and a prisoner by the name of Chaves. Just at the point where the road climbed from the plains and reached the summit of the first stiff hill the two parties met and passed. The ranger and the sheriff reined in simultaneously. Yet a moment and all four of them were talking at once.

  They turned toward the ranch, Bucky and Frances leading the way. Alice, riding beside her lover in the darkness, found the defenses upon which she had relied begin to fail her. Nevertheless, she summoned them to her support and met him full armed with the evasions and complexities of her sex.

  "This is a surprise, Mr. Collins," he was informed in her best society voice.

  "And a pleasure?"

  "Of course. But I'm sorry that father has been called to Phoenix. I suppose you came to tell him about your success."

  "To brag about it," he corrected. "But not to your father--to his daughter."

  "That's very thoughtful of you. Will you begin now?"

  "Not yet. There is something I have to tell you, Miss Mackenzie."

  At the gravity in his voice the lightness slipped from her like a cloak.

  "Yes. Tell me your news. Over the telephone all sorts of rumors have come to us. But even these were hearsay."

  "I thought of telephoning you the facts. Then I decided to ride out and tell you at once. I knew you would want to hear the story at first hand."

  Her patrician manner was gone. Her eyes looked their thanks at him. "That was good of you. I have been very anxious to get the facts.

  One rumor was that you have captured Sir. Leroy. Is it true?"

  It seemed to her that his look was one of grave tenderness. "No, that is not true. You remember what we said of him--of how he might die?"

  "He is dead--you killed him," she cried, all the color washed from her face.

  "He is dead, but I did not kill him."

  "Tell me," she commanded.

  He told her, beginning at the moment of his meeting with the outlaws at the Dalriada dump and continuing to the last scene of the tragedy. It touched her so nearly that she could not hear him through dry-eyed.

  "And he spoke of me?" She said it in a low voice, to herself rather than to him.

  "It was just before his mind began to wander--almost his last conscious thought. He said that when you heard the news you would remember. What you were to remember he didn't say. I took it you would know."

  "Yes. I was to remember that he was not all wolf to me." She told it with a little break of tears in her voice.

  "Then he told me to tell you that it was the best way out for him. He had come to the end of the road, and it would not have been possible for him to go back." Presently Collins added gently: "If you don't mind my saying so, I think he was right. He was content to go, quite game and steady in his easy way. If he had lived, there could have been no going back fo
r him. It was his nature to go the limit. The tragedy is in his life, not in his death."

  "Yes, I know that, but it hurts one to think it had to be--that all his splendid gifts and capabilities should end like this, and that we are forced to see it is best. He might have done so much."

  "And instead he became a miscreant. I reckon there was a lack in him somewhere."

  "Yes, there was a great lack in him somewhere."

  They were silent for a time. She broke it to ask about York Neil.